


First Of Many

by Topographical_Map_Of_Utah



Series: Look For The Force [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Rogue One, Smut, Teasing, because Chirrut's a dick like that, because they're 18 and that's all they can handle, these two were hoodlums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:29:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9436166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah/pseuds/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah
Summary: You know it's bad when a blind man can see that you have a crush.





	

Jedha's market was very nearly quiet, on the brink of peaceful, for once. The omnipresent bartering had lowered itself to a comforting buzz hanging in the air, mixing with the smoke curling upwards from a stall selling greasy skewers of meat and the incense being burnt on a windowsill. People moved with heavy feet, spoke in anxious hums. The Kyber Temple's bells rang the evening toll overhead and any pretence of urgency faded away as the day drew to a close. The overall effect: still.

Then a hoard of miscreants burst out of an alleyway, cursing and barking with their rough adolescent voices. Boxes were overturned, people were shoved, and the insults they hurled bounced off the walls and stalls with frightening passion. It rivalled the chants that rose from the temple that towered over the city, in volume and fervour both.

The targets of their ire darted down the street in a blur of shiny skin and worn clothes. Anyone interested in taking a closer look would have seen two boys on the cusp of manhood, all grimy edges and awkward proportions. The broader one had a head of matted black hair and was pulling along his friend, who carried a staff on his back. More than a few vendors looked up with scowls on their faces. These two were well known in the area, to say the least.

"Baze Malbus!" One of the regulars called, green face going purple with rage. "Wait until your mama hears what you're up to, you piece of bantha-"

Baze felt the hand in his grip tighten at the insults that followed and he growled low in his throat. "Not _now_ , Chirrut-"

Baze had Chirrut's hand clutched in his, tugging him through the winding streets. There was always a whisper of warning before every turn. _Shortcut at Gesh's, alley by the scrap shop._  That way Chirrut knew to duck the low doorway or watch his step on the uneven cobblestones. Blindness didn't stop him from nearly overtaking Baze as they moved as a unit through the city. A bickering, snappish unit, but a unit nonetheless.

"Where are we?" Chirrut asked when Baze paused at an intersection to consider their options. He had come to realise that he had run them right into what would become a dead end no matter where they turned. Irritation burnt in the back of Baze's throat when he heard the smoothness of Chirrut's voice. Had he forgotten that they were being chased by one of the Jedha's more notorious gangs? A gang whose leader Chirrut had goaded into a fistfight, mind you. Chirrut had won, technically, but it didn't really show. Why did Baze put up with him, again?

"The street that always smells like smoke near Tythoni Square, why-"

Without a word of warning Chirrut jerked Baze across the street and into what turned out to be a doorway. Because of some strange configuration in the architecture it was invisible to anyone on the street. To get in you would have to know it was there in the first place. Baze would ask, but then he heard the voice of Crim's second in command a block down and decided that keeping his mouth shut might be wise.

 For a moment the two of them stayed pressed against the wall, chests heaving as the footsteps and yells passed them by. As the last curse faded away Chirrut took Baze by the arm and pulled him through the half-collapsed doorway and up a disintegrating staircase into a large, airy room that smelled of sun-warmed clay and decaying wood, feeling along the wall as though he had been here before. Sensing that they were safe Baze shook Chirrut off and punched his shoulder, seeing as simply scowling wouldn't get the message across.

"Some Guardian you're gonna be. You can't even protect yourself..."

"I was doing fine." Chirrut said comfortably. He slung his staff off of his back and tapped around a bit, settling down in the corner of the room that was getting the most sun. All the while he was humming one of those chants of his as though nothing had ever happened.

"That's 'cause I was there to watch your ass." Baze insisted. Really, all he had done was block a couple punches, but Chirrut didn't need to know that. "You're bleeding." Baze observed, crouching to wipe the thin red trickle away from Chirrut's temple. Just a nick, but Baze couldn't help but feel responsible. "What the hell, Chirrut..."

"You should see what I did to Crim. I _wish_ I could see what I did to Crim." Chirrut's laughter bounced off the rafters far above them and Baze sighed, craning his head back to see the sky peeking through the parts of the ceiling that had caved in. They seemed to be in an abandoned shrine. Places like this were scattered all over the city, leftovers of religious sects that had died with their founders. Faith was hard to maintain when you eliminated the concrete, Baze found. And yet, here Chirrut was, all faith and no sight. It was enough to make Baze believe there might be something out there worth believing in, maybe.

And if there wasn't, there was always Chirrut to believe in.

Baze snorted as he sat down, making a real effort to ignore his own brain, the ridiculous things it came up with. Force knows he had had to do that a lot over the past couple years. "Crazy person. How'd you know this was here, by the way? If you say the Force-"

"No. It's just an old hiding spot. Somewhere to myself when I got sick of the compound. Too much was going on and none of the other kids was about to explain it." 

"Lucky that I found you, then."

"It wasn't luck. It was the Force."

"Right, I've heard that spiel. _All is as the Force willed it to be_." Chirrut nodded and Baze couldn't help but scowl. "Did it will you blind, too?"

"Yes. It did." 

"So why the hell would you believe in something that did that to you?" The question was directed to himself rather than Chirrut. For years Baze had struggled with his belief in the Force. Whenever he looked into the blue of Chirrut's eyes something tightened in his chest like a fist. No one was allowed to hurt Chirrut, not even some mystic energy that held the galaxy together. No one.

"The Force isn't kind, Baze. I never said it was kind." Chirrut reminded him. "It does what it must, to who it must. If it needs my sight, I give it gladly. If it needs my faith, it gets that, too."

"And if it tries to take you from me?" Baze asked, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. But Chirrut didn't miss a beat.

"I trust it to bring us back together."

They fell silent, after that. Baze's mama didn't expect them back until late, after all. The world moved outside with the setting sun, charm merchants advertising in voices as brassy as their wares and children clattering past in clouds of dust and shrill shrieks. Baze realised that Chirrut had slumped against him and was humming in his ear. The closeness should be familiar, he knew, but that didn't stop heat from stirring somewhere deep in his chest.  

"Why are you warm?" Chirrut's question startled Baze, as did the feeling of Chirrut's hand on his cheek.

"You're basically lying on top of me. That's why." He gave Chirrut a shove, but he just smirked and moved to lean even more of his weight on Baze's shoulder, laughing when Baze jerked back and caught him in his lap. 

"Rude."

"Childish. Good to know that next week your rebellious days are over. From here on out it'll be nothing but chanting and training and preaching." Baze smiled down at Chirrut, safe knowing that his voice was gruff enough not to betray him. They were to be inducted into the Guardians ranks on Chirrut's nineteenth birthday. Baze could have joined the year before, but leaving Chirrut behind for even a year was out of the question. 

"Oh, I'm not about to stop rebelling. I doubt I ever will."

"Of course you won't. I s'pose I'll be expected to rebel with you, then?" Baze snorted. He considered the image of Chirrut, decades from now, running through the streets with his robes flapping about and a hoard chasing him. It was ridiculous, but Baze knew he would be somewhere in that picture, whether he liked it or not.

"Of course. It wouldn't be a rebellion without you." Chirrut said comfortably. Baze sighed, pantomiming annoyance. "Well fine, then. If I irk you that much I guess I'll just join the Temple by myself. You can stay home."

_Wouldn't be home without you._ Baze mouthed, staring full into Chirrut's smooth, angular face. Instead of saying that he just flicked Chirrut's ear and barked out a laugh. "Nah, I'll put up with you. I suppose I'd get lonely, without you hanging around."

"You would, would you?" 

"Yeah. I guess I've gotten used to you."

"Used to me? Does your pulse pick up when you're around someone you're used to? You're not used to me at all." While Baze cursed his own heartbeat Chirrut smiled and reached up, managing after a few tries to cup Baze's chin between his thumb and forefinger. He stroked over what felt to be the beginning of a beard as he pushed himself up and into Baze's lap, knowing somehow that he would be met with eager, sheepish lips. "You know it's bad when a blind man can see that you have a crush, Baze." 

"Shut it, for once in your life." Baze breathed between kisses. They stayed there for a long while, not minding the mutual inexperience or occasional collision of teeth or noses. If anything it only made them eager for more. And soon enough, that's what it became.

Baze let out a shuddering breath as Chirrut's hand slipped downwards to work at the fastener of his pants, wrist pressing into the baby fat that Baze hadn't quite outgrown, even at nineteen. But when he tried to suck it in Chirrut just snorted and gave his waist a firm pinch.

"Get over yourself, Bazey. It's not like I haven't been this close before." The childhood endearment usually would have earned Chirrut a smack upside the head, but at the moment Baze saw no problem in letting it slide.

"You never had your hand in my pants before, either." He looked down and shuddered, seeing Chirrut's thin, work-worn fingers wrapped around his cock, curiously exploring the folds of foreskin, the curls of hair at the base and the smear of slickness at the head.

"Huh." Experimentally, Chirrut dragged his index finger up the shaft, getting a feel for length. "Speaking of things I wish I could see..." The sight of Chirrut working him made Baze's brain soften away, leaving a pleasant fuzziness behind. Unabashed, he rutted up into the firm grip Chirrut had on him and gasped when it tightened.

"Force-" Looking for something to cling to Baze latched on to Chirrut's lips, tasting the sweat on his skin, sharp with salt and the heat of their bodies. Chirrut just huffed a laugh and nipped at Baze's lower lip with his teeth, blunt and grounding. 

"I've got you. Trust me." he said quietly. Baze gasped and squeezed Chirrut's shoulder before dropping his hand to clutch the dirt floor that crumbled under his fingertips. His other hand was clasped over his mouth, holding back moans and what felt like sobs. Chirrut responded by pressing a line of soothing kisses to his cheek, as though Baze was a child in need of reassurance during a storm.

"Fine. I'm fine."

"Don't sound fine. Want me to stop?"

"You son of a-" Baze let a groan slip past his lips as Chirrut picked up speed, laughing a little. His touch burnt across Baze's skin and made fire burn in the pit of his belly. It was more, somehow. More than he had ever given to himself in those desperate moments behind closed doors, the fear of discovery sour in the back of his throat. This was drawn out, languid, theirs. Or it would be if Baze couldn't already feel that telltale tightness making his thighs tremble with want.

"Force, Chirrut. Please..."

"Was that a _please_ I heard? Why are you acting so polite all of a sudden?" Chirrut hummed against Baze's neck, sinking his teeth into the slick skin. Baze gasped and his hips were caught up in a desperate spasm. For a moment he felt a jolt of uncertainty, unsure of what came next. Then Chirrut whispered something to him and he shuddered. This was how it would be, with Chirrut's wiry form pressed to him, the sky orange overhead and the air laced with incense and sweat and sex. And Baze saw no problem with that.

When he came it was like a bucket of water dousing a fire, a crashing rush followed by ticklish trickles and the occasional spark. Baze collapsed against the warm wall, gasping in an attempt to form words. One of his hands held Chirrut's bicep in a vice grip, but he didn't see a reason to let go, honestly.

"I've left a bruise, haven't I?" Chirrut whispered, tenderly tracing his fingers over Baze's neck. 

"Just a small one."

"Sorry." By way of apology he kissed in the general area of the reddish mark on Baze's neck and let Baze clean them up. He took the time to explore the rest of Baze's body under his shirt, taking stock of all the dips and curves and edges. The shape of an old scar, the trail of coarse hair that led down from his bellybutton and spread outwards. He traced the outline of the dimple in Baze's shoulder and smiled to himself. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Baze breathed. Chirrut took him by the hand and dragged his tongue over the ridges and dips of his fingers, licking at the come going tacky on Baze's skin. Unable to resist Baze twisted his wrist and pulled Chirrut in for another kiss, reaching up to cup the back of his bristly head, petting it like you would a loth-cat. His own hair seemed to have always been a tangled mass with a mind of its own. Chirrut's close-cropped bristles had more appeal, he thought. At least it wasn't sentient.

As they settled into each other's arms Baze sighed against the collar of Chirrut's shirt, collecting his drifting thoughts, grabbing hold before they disintegrated again. All he could really concentrate on was Chirrut, his weight, his taste, familiar and strange all at once. It was strange, knowing it had all led to this. Baze could still remember finding that ragged little boy begging on the street, thinking him so strange and alien. Years later, and Baze could practically hear that same boy's thoughts, wondering what the future held for the two of them, because it would always be the two of them, no matter what. 

That might prove to be kind of difficult, though.

"Chirrut?"

"Baze."

"No one can know about this, can they?" he asked, watching dust motes drift in the air with hazy eyes. "Guardians not being allowed romance and marriage and all..."

For a moment Chirrut was silent, chewing on his lower lip, a habit carried over from childhood. He was thinking again. But when he turned and grinned at Baze there was nothing but playfulness in his expression. Inexplicably, that reassured Baze more than anything. The worries and fears could be expressed later. Not today, with the tang of discovery still fresh on their lips, the sweat of sex clinging to their skin. Not while life spread out before them with nothing but possibilities. So when Chirrut kissed him again Baze felt himself quiet, knowing that the answers would come. If not now, then later. Baze was more than willing to wait for later.

"You were considering marriage? Aren't we a bit young for that?" Chirrut teased. Baze sighed, but he didn't try and steer the conversation back.

_Later_ , he reminded himself as he pulled Chirrut into a hug, holding him close to his heart, safe and warm in his arms. The way Baze would keep him, always.  _Save it for later._

"Shut it, you." 

"You'd make an excellent housewife, Bazey."

" _Shut it_."

**Author's Note:**

> young space husbands is my jam


End file.
